You are a McDonald’s franchise owner in Cincinnati. It’s the early 1960s. Business is decent — except on Fridays. You’ve started noticing a pattern, and not a good one. Every Friday, especially during Lent, your burger sales tank. It’s like someone pulled the plug. The reason is simple, and rooted in deep tradition: the city is full of devout Roman Catholics, and they don’t eat meat on Fridays. And when they don’t eat meat, they don’t come to your store. But they are going somewhere else — to diners and mom-and-pop shops selling fried fish sandwiches. You can smell the grease from across the parking lot. You can see the line. You know exactly what’s happening. They’re eating fish, and they’re not eating it from you. You realize you have two choices: adapt or die. You whip up a solution. A fried fish sandwich. Nothing fancy — white fish, breaded, fried, topped with tartar sauce, a slice of cheese, served hot on a steamed bun. You test it on a few local folks. The response? Instant. They love it. It’s something they can eat on Fridays. And it's still fast, familiar, affordable. It's McDonald’s... just a little more flexible. But then comes the hard part. You need corporate approval. Which means facing Ray Kroc. And Ray hates the idea. From the start, he shuts it down. “You always bring trash into this office,” he growls. “I don’t care if the Pope himself is coming to Cincinnati!” He slams the door on the Filet-O-Fish like it’s a personal insult. But you don't give up. Because this isn’t just about fish. It’s about survival. It’s about your community. It’s about honoring your customers without compromising what McDonald’s stands for. You go back. Again. And again. You show him the numbers. You bring in the sandwich. You say, “Just try it.” You promise to sell it only in your store. One market. No risk. If it bombs, it’s gone. Back home, Edna believes in you. She’s seen the stress on your face, the empty tables, the quiet Fridays. She backs you up, reminds you why you started this in the first place: to serve people. All people. Now, you're standing at a crossroads. Ray Kroc thinks your idea is trash. The fish sandwich? He scoffed. But your store is bleeding every Friday — and you know you're right. So now the question is yours to answer: How will you convince Ray Kroc? Will you lean on data, emotion, faith, or cold hard profit? Will you pitch it as a seasonal item? A market test? A desperate lifeline? Will you play it humble, or will you gamble everything on your gut?